


mountaintops

by pistolgrip



Category: Persona 3
Genre: ....Mostly, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, please read endnotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: He’s still asleep through Saturday afternoon when Koromaru jumps onto his bed (which does not have enough room for these shenanigans).





	mountaintops

**Author's Note:**

> happy october 4th!

He’s still asleep through Saturday afternoon when Koromaru jumps onto his bed (which does not have enough room for these shenanigans). Shinjiro groans but refrains from waving his arms around, despite what his instincts say.

“What is it, Koro-chan?”

Koromaru says nothing, and the warmth that Shinjiro feels seeping into his back wakes him up even further. He forgot to turn the air conditioning back on because it nearly froze him to death the night before, and now he’s uncomfortable and sticky.

With a sigh, he gropes around for his phone and checks the time. Mitsuru wants him at her place by 7pm, and although he still dreads that it’s only three hours away now, it’s admittedly not the _entire_ friend group that Sanada had implied.

 _Just the people that happen to be on our floor,_ she reassures him, _mostly because the others can’t make it._

_how many does that make?_

_Around six, including you._

_The Arisatos, Aigis, Akihiko, yourself, and of course, myself._

And it’s still maybe too many people than he’s comfortable socializing with, but he’s already trapped himself into this, and maybe Mitsuru will show mercy on him and not invite him out to anywhere for a while.

He nudges Koromaru off him as gently as possible. Koromaru, apparently pleased with the knowledge that Shinjiro will in fact be leaving his bed for the day and going through with plans, happily moves off and nuzzles into the warm spot that Shinjiro leaves behind.

He goes through the motions of trudging to his bathroom and letting the water run warmer as he stares at his reflection. _Rough_ would be the kindest way to describe his perpetual state, he thinks, dragging his hands down his face. The effect’s only grown more intense since high school, and even then he was scaring most of his underclassmen away. His job at Blue Moon at least doesn’t require him to be out in the public eye except on occasion at the bar, and he’s hardly the oddest looking waiter there. (That’s not really fair. He’s just as odd as the others, probably, but they’re all filling different niches, he thinks to himself with a hint of amusement.)

The water runs hot enough for steam to rise, but he’s only half-thinking when he runs his hands underneath to splash his face. He curses and turns the cold tap at full blast, wiping water off onto his shirt, and well, at least _that’s_ got him awake now.

Once the water is at an acceptable temperature, he splashes water over his face, and his inner monologue begins again, the same old one that always starts up: _why bother?_ _Must’ve already shed enough blood to be useful for the Kirijos by now_ _._ _Most people got a few bridges they need to burn. You just gotta burn all of ‘em._

 _A little heavy on the self-pity, aren’t we, Aragaki?_ he shoots back at himself. It’s a familiar dance, and the dialogue is more of a formality than an actual attempt to fight back.

_Mitsuru wouldn’t be in as much shit as she is if it weren’t for me._

_For Christ’s sake, it’s been almost six years._ Which he knows, of course. He’s just past the lifespan expected of him, and he knows it in the way it begins to get harder to move around physically and move forward mentally—and even if he didn’t, he’s sure that the Kirijos would be quick to remind him he’s indebted. An indentured servant of a state of mind (or, the lack of it, as the Kirijos would be quick to remind him—)

Shinjiro slams the cold water down just enough that it’s almost uncomfortable, the heat nipping lightly at his fingers again. After a few more seconds of simply allowing the water to flow, he shuts it off and turns the shower on instead.

* * *

_Generally, no one wants orphans, but even he’s gotta admit he’s a lower pick than most. Even then, Shinjiro keeps quiet as those in the hospital beds around him come and go; he’s the only permanent fixture in this place, and he thinks that knowing about the walls that are turning into an off-white, the sheets that colour more under artificial light than the sun. He always has everything in mind. He doesn’t have time for anything else, these days._

_This probably isn’t a normal thing, he knows, and from hereon he remembers only flashes of things he’s not supposed to—the moon with its skin peeled back to reveal rotting green flesh; a suffocating blackness so dark that Shinjiro is no longer scared of the dark after that moment; grotesque shapes indiscernible as beings or structures; bony white hands wrapped in red and dirty gold silk spilling on the edge of his hospital bed._

_That’s all he remembers, and that’s all he’s not supposed to remember. In reflection, it’s his stubbornness that probably keeps him there longer when everyone else receives their clean bill of health, and it’s his stubbornness that has him living a facade of a normal life by day and a monstrosity of an experiment by night._

We have your back, and you’ll have ours _is a mantra drilled into his head. He knows his hands are not free of blood, even when he is but twelve years old, and even then he knows the words are much too laced with meaning to say to an adult with basic morals—but he is twelve and he has blood on his hands, and the Kirijos are ancient and when he places himself in their dark-red arms, intertwines themselves_ just _so, it is like he has not bled at all._

* * *

Koromaru’s barking outside the bathroom door. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but it can’t have been too long. It might be the next day already. Time always runs weird with him, moreso these days than before. His time is running out by now. Certainly not any time in the next few days, though. It’s just one of the certainties in his life, because there’s just some things he _knows_.

Not that it’s particularly surprising. Generally, people have no control over time, but he’s gotta admit that he doesn’t fit into the general term of people. This sort of thing would be a blessing if he could actually control this shit—he sort of wishes he had Aigis’ power instead, it seemed way more manageable—but life’s never liked dealing him good hands. He pops the cap off the orange plastic container, roughly counting what he needs and dry-swallowing the pills.

He’s done enough moping for the day, so he blearily opens his eyes again and shuts off the water and grabs a towel and dries himself and looks in the mirror and _try again._

He frowns at his reflection.

He’s close enough to the door now that he realizes that Koromaru is controlling his volume— _so smart,_ he briefly thinks—and wrapping the towel around his waist, he opens the door.

“Hey, boy,” he says, trying to be more soothing than he actually feels. Showers when he gets like this can be taxing, and a few hours before he has to be somewhat presentable around other people is perhaps one of the worst times for him to be like this.

He checks the clock on his bedside table. It’s not really _a few hours_ as it is _a few dozen minutes_ at this point.

Koromaru whines, clearly not convinced, but licks at his palm anyway. Really too smart for his own good.

As he opens his closet, Koromaru plods in again, and if a dog could look concerned Shinjiro is convinced that’s what it would be, right there, on the white dog’s face, framed perfectly by that silly plastic cone. All brain shit aside, Shinjiro can’t help but smile. “Helping me pick out an outfit?”

The eager silence and tail wagging is answer enough, so he continues. “Mitsuru’s place is always cold, and I’m more sensitive than most.” He thinks about whether Koromaru will relay the information to Aigis, who’ll translate, but he’s one of the more comfortable conversation partners he’s had in a while. Probably helps that Koromaru won’t talk back, for the most part. “I heat up easier than usual, and I get colder easier. Mitsuru’s a goddamn mystery. Her body heat’s always ten degrees colder than everyone else, and she _still_ doesn’t complain in the winter.”

_(bony white hands wrapped in red silk spilling—)_

Koromaru tilts his head, action exaggerated comically by the cone, and Shinjiro can’t help but actually chuckle that time, pausing from his half-hearted browsing through of his closet to give him a scratch on the head. “You think you can warm her up? Good luck. I know you’ve sat in her lap before. You’ve felt that ice cold chill.”

He settles on a dark turtleneck and less ratty jeans than usual, which happen to be close to his regular outfits anyway. Don’t fix what ain’t broke. Or rather, don’t fix what ain’t fixable. “She’s not really as tough as she seems. Honest.” With one last glance at the clock—almost seven on the dot, he really can’t stay around anymore, lest _the walls begin to turn off-white_ —he picks up Koromaru, who makes only a small huff of protest before succumbing. “Like you were actually complaining, you baby.”

It’s almost the end of August; the sun is setting sooner now, and he sees shadows among the blood red that the sun seeps through his windows as he leaves his apartment.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually the 4th chapter (ha) of nearing absolute zero which... i deleted, mostly because the rest of the chapters weren't going as i wanted, and this was the only one i decided was salvageable (and i didn't want to have another unfinished fic up because it wouldn't be fair). 
> 
> mountaintops was going to be the series/collection name, i had some plans written in the verse mainly for femc/aigis and yukari/mitsuru, but they weren't really... coming along as i wanted. :-( anyway happy 4th to the boy whomst i love the most, awagaki shinjiwo


End file.
